I've done many things in my life that I came to regret. Most of them are stuff I didn't get to say or do. I never thought much about it, but recently I am so full of regret. Like, what have I been doing my whole life? I've wasted so many years paying attention to people who do not deserve my attention. I have worried about small things for too long. I've wasted all these years on useless things. When I can be living my life, trying new stuff, taking risks without being afraid. Yet here I am writing this.

I've thought so many times that maybe, just maybe it's me. It came to the point where I convinced myself that it was all me. Everything that was going wrong in my life was my fault, all me. The thoughts, the betrayals, the fallouts, the issues, the divorce, the fights. I thought everything was my fault. I didn't know what to do, I thought I was useless and I fell into this trap. MY trap. It made me think that everything I had accomplished, everything I had been doing was wrong and I had been living my life the wrong way. I guess half of it was sorta right? But most of those thoughts were horrible, they were wrong. They shouldn't have even been a thought in the first place. But I couldn't get them out of my head. It was like a song on replay. A bad song.

It hurt. It hurt to see myself everyday in the mirror. It hurt that I wasn't getting better. It hurt that I was becoming like this. It hurt that I had these thoughts. It hurt that I had fallen into this depressive state. It hurt that I couldn't help myself, I couldn't look for help. No one could HELP ME.

I felt so alone, so hopeless, so useless. I thought I could help myself, I couldn't. I can't. I tried seeking help, nobody believed me, they all thought it was just a bad day or a small feeling. It would soon go away, they said. They treated me like garbage. They diminituared my feelings, said I was lying, that they weren't true. So if they weren't true, then maybe I'm not true. Maybe I'm not real. It was all just a lie. 

It got worse. I thought it'd go away. I should've been fine by then. But why did I still feel like this? I didn't want to talk to anybody. I was so bad, it was unexplainable. I felt so much remorse, so much pain, yet nothing at all at the same time. Was I numb? Was I dreaming? I couldn't tell what was fake and what was real anymore. I was lost. I was so in depth with my emotions, I couldn't control myself. I would have random bursts of sadness, anger, joy. I didn't know what it was. It was messing me up. It was affecting me physically and emotionally. I stopped eating, I stopped socializing. I got away from everything. Everything. 

Although it was bad and I had a horrible experience. I grew and found myself in a better place. I did stuff that made me feel like myself. I made myself happy. I learned and evolved. It took time but I got through it. It happened. 

I want to help the people around me. I don't want to see people the way I was and have something happen, only so I'm regretful about it. I want to be a better person. I've learned from my mistakes and grew from my experiences, so I have the ability to help someone else move on. No matter how long it takes, they can do it because they are capable of it. I did it, they can too.